


Give Me Two Damn Minutes

by Basil_Gray



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, also a bit of a song fic, but not really, definitely a make up fic, however i will do my best to keep people in character, idc about book or game canons this make up fic is strictly self indulgent, momentary self-hatred, this is going to be a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basil_Gray/pseuds/Basil_Gray
Summary: Jaskier sits in an inn and writes the most epic emo song about his witcher and the sorceress that will always be in his way.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Two Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Note 17/4/2020: I hope y'all are ready for some inconsistent updating and the possibility of this fic never being completed. Just kidding, I'm going to do my best to finish it. Heck, I might even make it a oneshot. who knows with me! Good luck!
> 
> Note 18/4/2020: Welp, this is going to be a couple of chapters. It was meant to be a oneshot. That's how inconsistent I am. *Throws hands up*

It all started when he watched his witcher engage in an amorous tussle with Yen. Not in the tavern as one might popularly think. I mean he couldn't blame anyone that did mistake the way he sauntered over to the tall, dark, and brooding witcher sitting in the corner minding his own business for flirting. No that bit of show was for the audience; after all, he was Jaskier, a humble bard, and a bard's performance didn't stop just because the lute did.

It was a habit he formed and maintained in social gatherings of substantial size. You just never know who could be watching, gods it could be your next benefactor, lover, and an enemy that needs converting, or maybe a wife's husband that needed converting! Jaskier could go on about the reasoning behind his performance, but that's not what we're talking about now is it?

No, the subject at hand is a handsome brute of particular talents, talents that Jaskier could only dream about experiencing for himself instead of secondhand. Ah, right back to that. So, as we've established, it wasn't the time when Jaskier met Geralt in the tavern or any of the various other moments in between that his attraction for the man took root. After all, they had been friends for what felt like years now, so there were many, many moments. No, it was that hungry, adrenaline-fueled fuck that Geralt and Yen shared after the building collapsed around them and their companions thought them dead. That near-death, happy to be alive sex, was what woke this aching feeling that constricted his very heart.

What he wouldn't give to be just one of those moments of Geralt's, even if it was just a quick go at it while sharing a room, or in the forest, or after Geralt comes back from slaying a monster covered in blood and guts. For just two damn minutes of Geralt's vast amount of lifespan, he wanted the witcher to look at him as more than just a bard and friend. But that would never happen, not now, not ever. Why do you ask? Well because now Jaskier is sitting alone in an inn with no witcher. No friend. No companion. Geralt didn't want him anymore; he made that clear when he blew his top at him, said those hurtful things that he knew would drive deep into Jaskier's heart.

Geralt knew how much Jaskier enjoyed being apart of his adventures, his tales, his life. He knew how much Jaskier liked to feel wanted and not just romantically but platonically as well. Jaskier needed to be needed, especially by him. It was Jaskier who proclaimed himself to be the only true friend of Geralt's and though it may not be completely true, Jaskier was definitely the best traveling companion that Geralt ever had, second to Roach of course. 

Jaskier strummed his lute feather-lightly to test the chords, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"These hands are growing cold...give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine..." He hums away, strikes another chord and plays some more with the lyrics he had been working on: not on paper but in his heart.

"If there was one place I could be right now I'd be standing there between you and her..." The words caught in his throat, and he let out a cough to clear it, "and I'll fight you both...I-I'll fight you both for the rest of my life long days." 

The tiniest of tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall, not here in this dingy inn. He was still a bard and the show must go on after all. He strummed his lute more, working through the set of cords again. He knew it by heart by now, but it was getting the words out that was the difficult part.

He had never composed a song as difficult as this one before, and he had thought about abandoning it on several occasions, but his traitorous heart sang it in his sleep and in his waking hours when he would be staring at nothing in particular, just thinking about his travels with Geralt, their memories.

Their friendship. He wondered if Geralt missed it at all. Wondered if Geralt did the same as he, sitting in a tavern somewhere or laying down for the night in an inn staring off into the heavens thinking about the bard, the companion, he drove away. Maybe he really was insignificant to Geralt. Besides, Geralt and Yen would long out-live Jaskier, of course, he was only temporary. That is if his witcher were still alive and not eaten up by something already. But Geralt's not his witcher. Not anymore. He never truly belonged to Jaskier. Yennefer had that honor.

"Well, enough feeling sorry for yourself, Jaskier. It's time to perform you've got this." Jaskier gave himself one more pep talk before standing with his lute. The crowd took notice of him as they turned in their seats with their drinks in their hand. He smiled at them all and strummed a couple of warm-up chords on his lute before beginning one of his songs before he met the witcher. 

"No, play the other one!" A drunk man called from behind him, "The sad one." He clarified. Jaskier's heart thud in his chest. Someone was paying attention to him earlier. Someone else had heard how vulnerable he was, had heard something private and intimate to him. "Nah, you don't really want to hear that tune. It's dull, sort of a wet blanket really." Jaskier tried to wave off the request and began the same tune again.

"No, we want to hear the other one!" The man called out again, "Yea, what he said. The other one" Some guy on the other side of the room that had no idea what he was talking about said. Jaskier bit his lip in frustration. It was in his blood to please.

"Fine." He bit out with a smile, "Your wish is my commands lords and ladies." He did a dramatic bow and begun to strum the chords of his heart's song. He was off to a rocky start having mucked up the first couple of lines but it was beginning to become easier as he closed his eyes and sang to the darkness behind his eyes.

". . .and I'll stare at you as you stare a-as you stare right back at the sky."

'Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine..."

"Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine"

"These hands are growing cold. They're running out of things to hold. . ."

The bard continued singing to the darkness, gaining strength from it to finish the song. He knew that if he opened his eyes and looked at the faces of the audience, his resolve would melt. He wouldn't finish the song; he would be a failure. He played his lute with more fervor as he finished up the tune. 

"If I'm good, will you come back."

"If I'm good, will you come back."

"If I'm good, will you come back to back to...back to us."

Jaskier opened his eyes slowly as the last chord faded out. The crowd was silent, not an entirely terrible thing either. Some of the drunkards were holding each other and wiping a tear away, and some of the ladies were clutching at their chests. The bard let out a sigh, satisfied at his performance and proud of himself for getting that song off his chest. It felt nice to let it go finally. He bowed and turned to smile at the rest of the crowd but froze when he caught a glimpse of a gloomy cloaked figure in the far back of the inn. 

His adrenaline ran because, Gods, he had the strongest sense of deja vu that it made him feel physically ill. The good high he was riding, gone. He discarded his lute on his stool and floated shakily towards the cloaked figure. He couldn't see the person's face, but he was sure that he saw a hint of white within the hood. 

He takes a seat in front of the stranger. Elbows on the table, he leans forward and speaks, "Care to comment on my performance, witcher." The stranger takes his hood off achingly slow and Jaskier is met with familiar amber eyes. 


	2. Some Feelings, They Can Travel Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things that happen in this chapter don't judge me on writing poor chapter summaries. Update: ok, jaskier is a disaster bi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And I never minded being on my own  
> Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home  
> To be where you are  
> But even closer to you, you seem so very far  
> And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing"  
> \- Florence and the machine, 'Wish that you were here'

He takes a seat in front of the stranger. Elbows on the table, he leans forward and speaks, "Care to comment on my performance, witcher." The stranger takes his hood off achingly slow and Jaskier is met with familiar amber eyes. 

"Th-Three words or less." Jaskier tries to keep his cool as his heart is simultaneously singing with joy and breaking at the sight of his witcher. Nothing about him changed to accept a few cuts here and there that healed into fine, pale pink scars. Time was kind to Jaskier as well. Those crow's feet Yen liked to point out didn't dig themselves deeper or branch out around his eyes, but that could be due to the bard having not smiled nearly as much as he did in the past. 

"Jaskier, come home." Geralt said bluntly. There was no apology or asking how Jaskier had been doing since their time apart. After all, a significant amount of time had passed. Jaskier puffed out a small laugh and looked down at his fiddling hands. He shook his head not really knowing how to reply to that. Part of him screamed, _Ok, Geralt_ and the other part of him said to put up a fight. He should have been expecting it though it was Geralt after all. 

"I'm doing well thank you, Geralt. And, do tell me, how is the missus?" Jaskier winced at his own words. He promised himself to act mature if he ever saw the witcher again but the words just fell out of his mouth. 

"What are you talking about, Jaskier?" Geralt looked at him with equal parts offended and confused. 

"Don't be daft, Geralt. You know I was referring to the sorceress. You know, Yen? The woman you are absolutely mad for? Ringing a bell?" Geralt just stared at him unamused. 

"Jaskier..."

"No, Geralt. You don't get to..to..." he waved his hands around, "you know what you said that day. You don't get to show up out of nowhere demanding that I follow behind you as nothing happened." 

Geralt now stared at him as if he was calculating his next words carefully. He wet his lips, looked away from Jaskier, looked back into his cornflower blue eyes and away again. A huff of a sigh escaped his pursed lips. Jaskier watched on as the witcher battled with whatever was going on in his head. 

"Jaskier, I uh...I...you need to-"

"I don't need to do anything, Geralt." He was standing his ground well considering his heart was cursing him for not accepting his witcher's invitation immediately.

"I know, I'm sorry." Geralt said earnestly.

"Sorry about before or what you just said?"

"Hmm," There it was. Jaskier missed that sound more than he realized.

"Fine. I guess that will due, but you still didn't tell me of Yen. How is she doing?" 

Geralt looked at him as if he didn't have the answer himself. It was enough for Jaskier right now; he was sure that it was going to be some long overly complicated story about how she was on some great quest for something and Geralt didn't agree, and they probably had some fight over it. Yen being Yen probably stormed out of there or portaled away as she always had, showing up and disappearing whenever she felt like with her convenient magic. 

"Well, then...I guess that means we're off?" Geralt still looked at him as if there was something that was still left unsaid, something of urgency but as all witchers are, he seemed to have snuffed it out and buried it back deep where witchers keep all of their unsaid words. And for Geralt, there were many buried away. 

"So, where are we headed to?" Jaskier asked (again) just 30 minutes after departing on the road. The sun was fully up now and it was blinding him as it reflected off of the fine layer of fallen snow. The bard kind of wished he had stayed for a warm breakfast having skipped it before his morning performance because of nerves. But, now he would have welcomed something warm in his belly to get him through the first half of their trek. 

"Home." Geralt gave him the same response as he did earlier inside the inn. 

"Yes, I heard that before, but that doesn't really mean anything to me." Jaskier flinched again and he could have sworn he saw the same reaction flash across the witcher's face. He wondered when his mouth would stop betraying him and just keep quiet with the bitter, salt-laced quips. 

"I purchased a home while you were away."

"You mean after you drove me away," Jaskier muttered under his breath. Geralt halted Roach. It didn't take much effort because he had her walking at a generously slow pace so that Jaskier could easily keep up with him. 

"Damn it, Jaskier." Geralt slid off of Roach to properly approach the bard. He was sniffling now _why?_ There was no reason for his behavior, but, at the same time, there was all the reasons. It wasn't fair being in love with your biggest best friend in the whole wide world who sees you as an after-thought every time a hot sorceress inconveniently pops into your guys' life and disrupts your perfect domestic routine. He wasn't quite crying yet, but he had the glassy eyes and the quivering lip that people had just before they do, and he was sure that if Geralt came any closer he was going to lose it like a child who hadn't gotten his way. 

"Look, Jaskier" Geralt grabbed him by both shoulders and yanked him closer till the bard looked him in the eyes, "I want to get something straight with you. I looked for you. After I was done being angry with Yen, not you, I got distracted by some very important...issues. But, I swear when it was all over with, the first thing I did was come looking for you. However, it wasn't particularly easy tracking you down when you all of a sudden decided to retire. It wasn't until you started up again that I caught wind of a melancholic bard. I was always a few towns behind you, but I finally caught up. I swear, Jaskier."

Geralt held his gaze on the bard, but the hands that were gripping him almost painfully tight loosened their grip. It was a tender touch now, foreign, he could only recall Geralt touching him this tenderly once before and that was when he was almost dying. He didn't really have time to focus on that though as he was preoccupied with trying not to die.

Jaskier's face held a pained look upon it, his eyebrows screwed together, cheeks flushed from a combination of being upset and feeling vulnerable so close to his witcher. Of course he would be focused on the rosy lips of his witcher companion being this close to him and all. Of course he would be thinking about kissing those very lips when just seconds ago he was wanting to cry from frustration. 

He thought about what the ramifications would be if he just kissed Geralt and walked off in the other direction. He was sure that it would go one of two ways: Geralt cuts him down before he can even get ten paces away or the witcher lets him walk away with his life, and the two never see each other again. Jaskier almost prefers the first scenario. Actually, the first scenario sounds quite tempting. Jaskier weighs his options again, evaluates his life one more time, and takes his chances and hopes for the best. The best being that Geralt cut him down.

Jaskier's hands come up at a reasonable speed, not too fast so that the witcher sees it as an oncoming attack, which technically it was definitely considered sexual assault. Kissing unwilling participants definitely counted as sexual assault. The bard's hands cup either side of the witcher's face, the stubble prickling Jaskier's smooth palms. It shot an electrical shock feeling through his nerves, or maybe that was just adrenaline rushing from him anticipating being intimately acquainted with Geralt's swords very soon. 

Geralt was freakily still even as the bard pressed his half-opened lips to the witcher's. The feeling of the stubble now on his lips, made them tingle as he scraped his own against the unmoving lips in a slow, savoring, kiss. He peeked his eyes open, and Geralt was still staring at him unblinkingly. He wasn't sure what was going on through the man's head. Perhaps he was planning out how he was going to kill the impetuous bard or maybe the kiss had broken him, and he simply stopped working. The silence scared him more than Geralt's rage, so he called out to his witcher to coax some kind of response.

"Geralt?" Geralt, I'm sorry. I'll go now. I'll never be a bother again, I promise. Let me just grab my lute, and I'll be on my way that way." Jaskier pointed in the direction of the town they had previously left. He then turned on his heel, grabbed his lute and marched as quickly as he could to get as much distance between him and Geralt as possible. He was such a twit. He had only been with Geralt for an hour, and he already mucked it up. 

Jaskier's heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard footsteps quickly approaching him. He dared not to turn around; he'd rather not see the killing blow land. However, it wasn't a sword that came down on him, but a hand. The bard prepared for the worst as he was whipped around to look at the witcher he just violated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know if I should drag this on or make it short and sweet!


	3. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier discovers something that he already knew blah blah nobody reads these things. Enjoy the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back. LoL. Also the title has a real meaning see endnotes please.

Jaskier's heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard footsteps quickly approaching him. He dared not to turn around; he'd rather not see the killing blow land. However, it wasn't a sword that came down on him, but a hand. The bard prepared for the worst as he was whipped around to look at the witcher he just violated.

The bards heart hammered away for what Jaskier would think would be for the last time as he stared in fear at his dear friend. Geralt wore a puzzling mix of emotions on his face, the most expressive he had been yet in front of the bard. There was a hint of grief, frustration, and, most of all, relief. 

Relief puzzled Jaskier the most. What could Geralt be relieved about? He had just been assaulted by the continents most notorious lover. The witcher should be angry; he should be running him though with his sword, but instead, Geralt clasps a strong hand on the back of the bard's neck and pulls him close with his other heave hand resting on Jaskier's shoulder. Their foreheads connect rather gently, Geralt's eyes close, and he enhales deeply before releasing a long sigh. 

"I missed you too, Jaskier." Geralt's voice is almost a whisper as it cracks on every other syllable.

Not what the bard was expecting, but who is he to complain about the intimacy his dearest friend was showing him? Still, it left Jaskier confused more than ever. 

"I was not convinced earlier that you had forgiven me, but now I am. Thank you, Jaskier." Geralt squeezed the back of his neck once and released him before turning back to Roach.

 _Thank you? THANK YOU?_ Jaskier wondered if the witcher had suffered some great head injury while they were apart because he would not in a million lifetimes think that Geralt would thank him for doing something as brazen as kissing him square on the lips. 

He didn't mention it to the witcher though being too thankful for still having a beating heart. He followed behind Geralt in a daze reliving what could have been, or still could be the biggest mistake of his life. He was certain that the real Geralt would recover from whatever head injury he received and cut the bard down, rightfully so. 

They traveled for a few more hours, entered a grove, and then traveled for what Jaskier thought was another hour before Geralt slid off of Roach, and took down his bedroll and the rest of the camping gear. It was a nice little clearing and Jaskier could feel a coolness in the air that one only felt when a river or stream was close by. Geralt had taught him that. Before, he would take no notice to subtle details like that. 

Jaskier watched his friend as he went about his routine of first setting up the fire and then laying out the bedrolls. He noticed that a second bedroll was laid out, a spare, and the bard wondered if it was meant for him or conveniently packed with Geralt's other things. If it truly was meant for him, then Geralt's story of tracking him down would be legitimate. That made Jaskier's heart do a flip. 

"Are you just going to stand there and watch me do all of the work, or are you going to make yourself useful, bard?" Geralt didn't look in Jaskier's direction as he continued to set up the camp.

"Make myself useful? Alright then, how bout a song? That should raise your spirits and incite some you to get this camp in tip top shape. I do say, witcher, your skills at setting up camp do seem to have diminished. Getting to comfy at home, yes?" Jaskier leaned against a tree with his arms crossed, a grin quirking his lips playfully. 

Geralt looked at him now with half disapproval and half fondness. How he managed a look like that, the bard could not tell you. The witcher seemed to be perplexing him more as of late with his complex expressions. Well, as complex as it gets with a witcher. 

"What is it, Jaskier?" Geralt asked and it brought Jaskier back to real life. He hadn't realized that he had been staring at his dear friend as he got lost in his thoughts briefly. 

"Nothing," the word came out weak, and so he cleared his throat, " nothing really just that, well I missed..I missed this, really." Jaskier waved between himself and the witcher and Geralt nodded in approval. 

"Hmm." 

With that, Jaskier headed off to hunt down the stream that he was sure was nearby, after all, he had to make himself useful to his witcher companion. It wasn't long until he came upon the water source. It was quite large to be a stream but too small to be consider a real river. What it was wasn't important really. What was important was that it was just large enough for himself and the witcher to take a much needed dip. He filled up the water skins and made sure to make note of it to Geralt once he got back to the camp. 

Geralt was practically done with the camp by the time that he returned with their water skins. He tossed one to Geralt and let out a chuckle as he did. 

"What's so funny, bard?" Jaskier forgot that Geralt's mutant hearing would pick up on such a small sound as the one he just made.

"Its silly really," he went to wave it off but changed his mind last minute, "I was just thinking that toss a water skin to your witcher doesn't have the same ring to it as the original tune." Jaskier chuckled again, not being able to help himself. 

"You are intolerable sometimes you know that right, Jaskier?" Geralt was grinning now, but Jaskier could tell that he was trying his best to hide it.

"Why, Geralt. I do believe that is the kindest way you have ever told me to piss off. Completely gobsmacked, truly." Jaskier placed a hand on his chest as he mockingly behaved astonished. But, if Jaskier was being honest, he wasn't wrong about what he had said about the witcher. 

He tried not to think about the moment on top of the mountain, but it creeped into the forefront of his mind occasionally, especially in moments where he could just stare at his witcher friend. 

"That's right, the stream turned out to be just big enough to bathe in if your in need, which you smell like you are." Jaskier quipped. "I wouldn't mind taking a dip myself, although, I don't need it. I would be a fool to pass up an opportunity to dip in nature's refreshing waters." The bard dramatized his hand movements as he delivered his lines.

"Jaskier, you're already a fool." And Geralt let out a genuine chuckle of his own as he watched Jaskier feign being offended. The bard loved that sound, perhaps because of its rarity or because he loved the owner it belonged too. 

_Loved._ LOVED!

Jaskier knew that his feelings for the six feet tall monster slaying mechanism was way beyond the boundaries of platonic friendship, but he had never admitted outloud or to his heart that he was in love with his dearest friend. Not in the last fifteen years. Not while he laid down many nights under the stars stealing glances at the witcher. Not while he climbed down the mountain broken hearted. Not while he composed what would be his hearts greatest sorrow. 

Then why now? Jaskier decided it could only be due to that damned kiss. It was the only variable that had not been there before. 

"How does that sound, Jaskier?" Geralt's voice broke through his inner monolog once again. 

"Pardon?" Geralt huffed at this, but Jaskier quickly supplied, "I'm aging, Geralt. I'm human it's bound to happen." He raises his palms up towards the sky and shrugs his shoulders.

"Jaskier, you're 33. You're at a prime age." Geralt's has were on his hips almost as if he were mocking on of the bard's sassy poses. 

"Yes, of course. Now what were you saying?" 

"Let's go to the river before dinner. You'll catch a chill otherwise." Geralt was already grabbing a clean set of clothes from his knapsack. 

"Ah! Yes, of course."

It was a lovely time at the river despite the bard feeling almost completely awkward and shy being undressed in front of the witcher. He had not been that way before in the past, and he worried that Geralt might have picked up on that as well and spared his feelings by not bringing attention to it. He new the reason for it. Had he not acknowledged his love for his dearest friend, no, he knew he loved his friend. If he had not acknowledged that he was in love with said friend, then that bashfulness would not exist. 

Even now as he sat opposite of Geralt, post dinner, warming by the fire with his lute in his hand, he could feel his neck and cheeks flush with a heat not caused by the campfire. He only hoped that Geralt could not pick up on that either. 

"Sing for me." Geralt broke the comfortable silence that was between them.

"Here, right now?" Jaskier stammered and Geralt gave him an encouraging gesture to play. "Alright I guess. This ones not of my own. I learned it while doing my studies in Oxenfurt." 

Jaskier began to strum his lute. The tune was playful, but he slowed it down and plucked the strings a bit softer to match the mood of the campfire-lit night. He played the part of both the man and the woman, although, it had been much more fun when he played it with his schoolmate Madeleine, and when he had not been in love yet, himself. Because, now, the tune meant so much more than just a passing grade. The song was closing up and he was careful not to look at his witcher companion and kept his focus on the dancing flames lest his eyes give away his secret.

"If you say that you can't, then I shall reply  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
Oh, Let me know that at least you will try  
Or you'll never be a true love of mine  
  
Love imposes impossible tasks  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
But none more than any heart would ask  
I must know you're a true love of mine"

He finally looked up from the flames and saw that Geralt too was looking down at them. His gaze was stoic, but Jaskier could see a hint of something there. No doubt the song must have had him thinking of Yenn. He felt almost guilty for making his friend upset, but he was human, and he was also feeling a bit jealous that he was not in his thoughts then. 

The bard laid his lute down beside him opposite of the campfire and bade goodnight to his friend who had still not stirred from his thoughts, and closed his eyes for the night, turning away from the campfire as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parsley means comfort, sage means strength, rosemary means love, and thyme means courage. 
> 
> Song is an old medieval tune about unrequited love. I prefer Sinead O'Connor's cover of it because I'm partial to Irish singers.


End file.
